Civilian Aid
by impoeia
Summary: After a battle, clone medics Coric and Kix are assigned to assist the local relief effort. Dealing with civilians can be quite a challenge, but in this case, a good deed will not go unrewarded.
1. Chapter 1

This story is dedicated to **laloga. **My many thanks for the wonderful reviews.

P.S.: I don't own anything. The whole kit and kaboodle belongs to George Lucas and he won't share.

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**Who's Boss**

Looking out over the crowded assembly hall that was supposed to be a first aid station, Kix thought 'the mess' would have been a more appropriate term for the place. _In every sense of the word, _he thought, grimacing as he watched one man, his left leg and right arm in a cast, trying to feed himself with what was obviously his off-hand. At least Kix hoped it was, because otherwise that man needed an exam to see if his inner ear had sustained any damaged. He was getting…well, Kix actually wasn't sure what the man was eating. It was grey and sort of liquid with bits of brown mixed in. But whatever it was, precious few of it was actually surviving the trip from the bowl to the man's mouth. Most seemed to jump ship – or spoon – somewhere in between to land either on the bed, the floor, or the prone man's chest.

Kix cast helpless eyes on Coric, but the older medic seemed as stunned by the chaos as he was. This was most definitely **not **GAR country.

Drawing a hand through his regulation cut, Coric blew out a frustrated breath. "Kripes, where do you start?"

"At the beginning, where else?"

The strange voice made the two troopers jump and they both quickly whirled around, hands automatically reaching for their blasters. _That's the problem with not wearing your bucket, _Kix thought. _Anyone can sneak up on you. _But since they had been assigned to work with the local relief groups in what was once more Republic territory, the two medics had decided to leave their buckets clipped to their belts. As a sign of courtesy.

The speaker was a woman, perhaps in her mid thirties. A Human, she had curly brown hair tied to a knot at the nape of her neck, a cat-like face with high cheekbones and a pointed chin. She was as tall as they were and regarded them with eyes as blue as the stripes on their armor.

He gaze dropped to their holsters, where the medics hands still rested on the butts of their blasters. "Planning on doing some aggressive organization, boyos?" She asked, her voice a laconic drawl.

Kix felt himself color and quickly withdrew his hand. Coric did as well, though his expression was more sour than embarrassed

"You shouldn't sneak up on a soldier, ma'am." He said, his voice dropping to the authoritative pitch of a sergeant. "We could have hurt you."

"Could ya know?" She drawled, and Kix saw her lips quirking up in a smile, while her lids dropped halfway over her eyes. To Kix, she looked like a cat that had spotted a juicy clawmouse.

"Well then, if you'll excuse me, _soldier._" And she practically purred the last word as she made her way past Coric to face the noisy crowd of wounded and helpers. Kix wondered what she would do now. Eat them perhaps, since most of the people in the hall were running around like headless nuna.

Putting two fingers between her lips, the woman let out such an ear-piercing whistle that Kix had to clap his hands over his ears in protest. He saw Coric wince and take a step back even as the entire hall went silent.

Hands on hips and feet slightly apart, the woman took a good long look around the crowded hall and then started barking orders.

"Alright yens, time to clean up! Can't find our blessed ankles with both hands in this mess. I want those beds in neat rows, equal distance between 'em. There'll be a lot of walking and I want to do my walking without banging my shins. You there!" And an imperious finger pointed at a group of youths, lounging in a corner. "What are ya waiting for, to grow roots? Make yerselves useful. There's a load of pots in the kitchen that need washing. Once you've done that, fill 'em up with hot water and plenty of grog and start distilling glassware."

The finger moved to the next group, this one made up of teenage girls. "And you. Stop that fussing. No one gives a bantha's backside how you look under the mud. I want splints! We got enough broken bones here to decorate a gundark's den. Get to what's left of the greenhouses and gather all the poles you can find."

Her next victim was a woman, occupying one of the beds closest to the door. "And you! What's the matter with you? I don't see no bandages, I don't see no blood. What? That?" And she waved a dismissive hand as the woman pulled up the sleeve of her shirt to reveal a glistening coat of bacta spread over a burn. "Listen, unless you're bleeding all over the carpet I don't want you in a bed. Get yerself a spot by the wall. And this goes for everyone!" And she raised her voice to an even more impressive level. "If you can stand, then you can walk. So walk yerselves to the wall and park your behinds. Beds are for lying down and recuperating, not being lazy!"

Kix was absolutely fascinated as he watched the woman mobilize her troops, bringing order to a mess that he had thought beyond solving short of an air strike. He was so fascinated in fact that he practically jumped out of his skin when she turned her flashing blue eyes and jabbing finger on the two clones.

"And you, you still here?"

"Ah, yes ma'am." Coric said, clearing his throat to cover up his own startled reaction. Having that finger pointed at them, both medics had automatically come to attention, like rookies before a training sergeant. "We…ah…we were sent to help. By the Republic."

The woman raised one sardonic eyebrow and Kix figured she was thinking the same thing he was. _She sure doesn't look like she needs help. _

"I see," she finally said. "Well ain't that generous. And trust me boys, we thank ya from the bottom of our bomb craters."

"Ma'am," and this time Kix took the initiative. "I don't think you understand. We're medics with the 501st. Both Sergeant Coric and I are experienced in treating combat injuries." He hefted the pack on his shoulder, trying to sweeten the offer further, remembering from Saleucami that the easier you made it for civilians, the more willing they were to accept you. "We even brought a few supplies."

She looked from one to the other, taking them in with careful consideration. "Well, if that's so, then I guess I could find some use for you. But ya better be forgetting this ma'am stuff quick-smart." She told him, waggling her expressive finger right in his face. "The names Korinna and I'm the doctor in these here parts. The only doctor, mind. So my word is law and you's better be remembering that, or ya'll get a firsthand demonstration of my skills with a scalpel and a rusty saw."

There was only one possible response to a threat like that, so both men clicked their heels together and gave Korinna a crisp salute.

"Sir, yes, sir." They said in unison. Kix only realized their mistake when he saw Korinna's eyes narrow and the nostrils of her long nose begin to flare.

"What'cha just call me?" She asked, voice low and the drawl more pronounced then ever.

Kix swallowed and saw Coric go pale. If he'd thought Grievous was scary, then Korinna was downright terrifying.


	2. Chapter 2

This story is still dedicated to **laloga **and I still don't own anything. *Waves hands frantically in the air* And I swear it was meant as a OneShot!

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**Divide and Conquer**

If you were a medic in the Grand Army of the Republic, rank became a more fluid concept because you were a specialist. A medic had training most troopers did not. A medic knew more about how to treat injuries, then simply applying pressure and warding off the cold. A medic was a specialist and as such, his knowledge and experience outpaced that of even most ranking officers. So when a medic gave an order concerning a trooper's health, then that order was obeyed whether by a private or a captain. On the field and treating his brothers Kix knew he outranked even a Jedi General.

And as surely as Kix knew this, the civilians he was trying to treat did not. They argued with him. They complained. They questioned his competence, asked him where he had gotten his degree. A **degree** for kriff's sake. Kamino didn't hand out any degrees. On Kamino, you were taught the necessary skills and then sent out to combat. What did he need a piece of flimsi for, any way? He had experience.

But trying to explain that to his patience was like trying to explain Mon Cal opera to a battle droid. His current patient, an old Wroonian of perhaps seventy standard years, was a perfect example.

"Experience?" The old man scoffed. "What kinda experience could you possible have? You so young, you'da better be off plowed and planted in the field."

Kix rubbed a hand over his face and tried very hard to hold onto his patience. He was, after all, a medic and had talked down plenty a nervous trooper before. Getting a blaster-wielding brother on an adrenaline high to sit still long enough to administer some bacta could not be more difficult than changing some old man's bandages. Oh, but he had so much too learn.

"Sir," he tried again. "I can assure you I have seen plenty of combat and I have changed more bandages than I care to remember. If you'd just let me take a look, I'd be done in under a minute." He strove for a peaceful, even tone; the same tone that had managed to convince Suu to lower her blaster and to let the clones shelter their injured captain in her barn. It had worked on a tough Twi'lek woman. Didn't that mean the same tactic could be applied to an aged Wroonian?

The old Wroonian drew back, his face a scowling mask of outrage. "A minute! A minute he says. You youngens got no respect for time, I tell ya. Always on the go, when the true value of a work lies in taking your time for it and…" Apparently not.

Korinna came out of nowhere, her cat-like face alight in the joy of being able to pounce on some unsuspecting victim.

"Darlos, what'cha be talking about. You're holding up the traffic. Stop nattering and let Kix do his work."

Cowed, Darlos quickly lay back in his bed and let Kix change the bandages on his leg. Kix may have known that he outranked everyone when it came to the clones' health, but Korinna knew she outranked everyone, period.

Kix did his work quickly, keeping one eye on the task and the other on Korinna. She had kept her position by Darlos' bed, but was avidly watching the crowds around them, her blue eyes missing nothing. _If she had a tail, _Kix thought, _it would be twitching. _

The mental image made him smile, though he ducked his head to keep Korinna from seeing. He had to admire her though. In the space of an hour she had turned a chaotic provisionary assembly hall into a well-organized and smoothly run first aid station. By now, almost five hours later, this could have been the med unit on the _Resolute, _with patients relegated to beds or chairs and volunteers walking quickly down the aisles with food, drink and other supplies. And looking down on it all like a queen was Korinna, barking orders and bossing everyone around like a drill sergeant.

There was a light tug on his ear and Kix turned around to come face to face with Korinna.

"What are you grinning about, boyo?"

Apparently, he hadn't done too good of a job hiding his smile after all. "I…ah…nothing, nothing at all." He grimaced at how inane he sounded.

She narrowed her blue eyes at him and Kix wondered whether it was his turn to be pounced on. It was not a too unpleasant concept.

"Nothing, eh? Well maybe I should find ya some work engaging enough to put some real facial expression on you…" she trailed off, suddenly cocking her head in curiosity. Bringing up one hand, she trailed her fingers lightly over the left side of his head, over the short stubble of hair and his tattoo. Kix felt a shiver run through him at the contact, but did not pull away. Korinna's touch was surprisingly light and gentle.

"I didn't notice before," she said in a voice that was low, as if she were talking more to herself than to him. "It's not just decoration, those are words." The tips of her fingers lightly slid over the Aurebesh letters. "'A good droid is a dead one.' Reeaallyy?" And her drawl drew the last word out, even as her lips quirked upwards into an amused smile. "That's quite the opinion for a medical man."

Kix relaxed, even as he felt his face heat up. He had noticed that Korinna's drawl became worse the more she was vexed with someone. From her last sentence, he could tell that she was actually rather pleased, though he wasn't quite sure by what. And he really hoped his blush wasn't as noticeable as he thought.

"Yes, well." And one arm came up to scratch the back of his head in slight embarrassment. "Droids don't really need medics and the fewer there are to shoot at us, the fewer brothers I have to patch up afterwards."

Korinna's amusement dimmed slightly at his words and Kix almost wished he could take them back. He had actually enjoyed being able to make Korinna smile.

There was a short, sharp clearing of the throat and both of their attention was drawn back to Darlos. The old Wroonian's eyes kept shuffling back and forth between them, his expression clearly uncomfortable.

"Is there….ahm….anything else, doctor?"

Before either Kix or Korinna could say anything, someone else intruded on their group. It was a young woman in her late twenties. Kix had seen her around, patrolling between the beds and from what he had observed, she seemed more knowledgeable about medicine than most of the other volunteers. She gave the group a quick, apologetic smile, before turning to Korinna.

"I'm dreadfully sorry to bother you Korinna, but we need some extra help in the children's ward."

Korinna gave a scoffing snort. "Ya mean help in what used t'be that tight-pocketed, no-good, sleazy poli-thumpers office?"

The younger woman hid a quick smile behind one hand, before composing her face to a more professional cast. "That would be the one."

"A'right, a'right, now let me see." Korinna craned her neck to take in the hall, her eyes seizing up and dismissing various volunteers. Then she saw Coric at the other end of the hall, tending to some walking wounded and a devious smile lit her face.

"I think I got some help for ya, May m'dear." Then she put her fingers to her lips and let out another one of her glass-shattering whistles. Kix, Darlos and May clapped their hands to their ears even as the entire hall went deathly quiet and every head turned towards them.

"You!" And she pointed her commanding finger at Coric. "Get yerself over here and double-time. I got work for ya." Coric opened his mouth to protest, but Korinna cut him off before he could utter a word.

"I said," she enunciated very carefully, in a voice that carried through the entire hall and probably all the way to the orbiting _Resolute. _"Get yerself over here or else I'll show ya a whole new meaning to 'canned ass'."

A wise man, Coric shut his mouth and made his way towards them.

Grabbing him by the shoulder as soon as he was in grabbing distance, Korinna turned Coric around to face the other woman, May.

"This is May, my assistant and now you'll be her assistant and be assisting her in the children's ward." She gave Coric a push towards May.

The Sergeant caught himself, straightened and carefully and deliberately brushed some non-existent dirt off of his armor. Keeping a straight face and his voice deadpan, he told Korinna, "It'll be my pleasure, Doctor. Always happy to volunteer." And he followed an absolutely mortified May out of the hall and towards the children's ward.

Korinna watched them go, then turned her attention back to Kix.

"And now, boyo, I got you all to myself," she said, the devil's smile on her lips and his light in her eyes. She reached out and tapped her index finger against his nose.

"And don't you go thinking I didn't catch that blush earlier. I like a man I can get all flustered. Makes playing all that much more fun."

Kix swallowed, but found himself returning the smile. He might now be at her mercy without a brother to watch his back, but looking at her fine-boned face, Kix thought that might not be such a bad thing. It might even be fun.

Unnoticed by either trooper or doctor, Darlos pulled his blanket up under his nose, his eyes watching them nervously. Maybe it was time for a nap.


	3. Chapter 3

I think repeating myself rather tedious, but here goes: Nothing. I own nothing.

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**Preferences**

After two days of working alongside the local relief organization, Coric found he preferred pulling duty in the children's ward. It was certainly different from any other assignment he'd ever had. For one, the kids really were kids and not just shinies fresh off of Kamino. He'd had a few previous interactions with civilians, but children, particularly the very young, were generally absent or only glimpsed from a distance. Now, taking care of their various broken bones, burns, bruises and cuts, he got to touch them, talk with them. It was like and unlike dealing with shinies. There was the same intense curiosity about the world around them, the same bewilderment when encountering something new. But unlike the shinies, these kids knew no restraint. They didn't call him 'sir' or salute him, or listen with respectful silence when he talked. They giggled. The used words he sometimes didn't understand. They climbed all over him, if they were physically able to. They wanted to touch his face, touch his armor. They wanted to be held.

Working in the children's ward also had the added benefit of getting away from under Korinna's tyrannical thumb. The woman might run a tight ship and her medical knowledge was impressive, but honestly? She was a terror. A nexu on the prowl and he had spent more than enough time under duress on the battlefield. He did not need that kind of harassment in a medical ward. Coric had actually felt rather sorry for Kix, now alone and without backup, while working side-by-side with Korinna. He had even offered to come by on a regular basis, to relieve Kix from the strain of the doctor's dominion. Oddly enough though, Kix had declined. He had told Coric that, in fact, he preferred working with Korinna. There had been an odd, dreamy smile on the other medic's face when he'd said that and Coric, remembering a brief discussion on _Leveler _about 'romance', had left it at that. He really, **really **did not want to know. Particularly after walking past a storage closet early one morning and hearing some rather _interesting _sounds, punctuated by moans and groans. He had beaten a more than hasty retreat once he had heard Kix's name being called out in Korinna's unmistakable voice. Something about how she going to get him really flustered this time. He **really **didn't want to know.

"That should be the last of them."

Coric turned to face May and quickly relieved her of the box she was carrying.

"Thank you, Coric," she said and smiled at him. She had a very nice smile, Coric decided. It made small dimples appear in each cheek.

"Not a problem," he told her and quickly deposited the box with the others. Together they surveyed the stacks, neatly aligned in rows against the outer wall of the building. There were three in all with boxes of varying sizes, all full of things taken from the large series of offices that had been turned into the temporary children's ward. Looking over the rather eclectic and, to his sense, bizarre array of art and minor knickknacks, Coric couldn't help but shake his head.

"I always wondered what happened to the tinnies we clones turned to slag." He nudged a statue that had fallen from one of the boxes with the toe of his boot. "Now I know. Ugly tinnies get turned into ugly sculptures. Guess this is how the Republic finances the war."

May gave a delighted laugh. He looked at her and smiled back. Another perk of working with the children was that it meant working with May. She might have been Korinna's assistant, but Coric couldn't image two people who were more different. May was quiet and thoughtful. She went about her tasks with a dedicated efficiency that he could only admire. She joked and laughed with the kids, soothing them when they cried from their hurts. She was shorter than he was by a few inches, but her hair was as black as his and he thought the cut of it made the short strands look impish, rather than boyish. She was chubbier than Korinna, but Coric rather liked that about May. It was why she had dimples and Coric found that he quite enjoyed the sight of dimples.

May smoothed back her black hair, her green eyes still dancing. "Well, now that you've decided to take a break from building the economy, I know a few dozen children who still need their pills before taking a nap."

"Sounds good to me."

Walking back to the children's ward, Coric adjusted his trooper's gait to match May's, enjoying the sound of her voice as she talked over the next day's schedule with him.

* * *

"What's that?" A grubby little finger pointed to the object in question.

"That's the main engine room." Coric told the child, adjusting the focus on the holo for a better resolution. "That's where the hypermatter reactor core is stored. Fully fueled, an _Acclamator I – _class assault ship can reach a speed of 250,000 lightyears."

There was came an awed "oohh" from the circle of children surrounding him, though Coric was pretty sure most of them didn't even understand what a lightyear was. Not that it mattered. The number itself was sufficiently big enough to make little faces bright with wonder.

More questions followed the first and Coric found himself explaining things such as troop numbers and locations of 'freshers. The fact that a compliment of about 16,000 clone troopers did not, in fact, have to share one 'fresher appeared to impress the children in particular.

Coric couldn't blame them. The ward currently housed about thirty children between the ages of three and fourteen. But the office level above the assembly hall that had been appropriated for the children only had two 'freshers: one for the staff manning the outer office and reception and a larger, more lavish 'fresher in the main office. Needless to say, washing for the start and end of the day took quite some time and was harrying business for the volunteers. Said volunteers being May and Coric. There had been another woman to help out, but she had quit on the first day after her father-in-law had taken ill. Coric found he didn't mind. He was used to working under far worse conditions with even less help. And it meant he and May were spending more time completing tasks together.

Coric glanced up from his impromptu lecture about Republic battle cruisers, to see May sitting on a couch by the far wall, behind the children ringing him. She was working on making more bandages out of a heap of rags next to her. But he found her green eyes on him in that moment and she gave him that wonderfully dimpled smile. She was apparently enjoying the lecture as much as the children were. _Or maybe, _he thought, he hoped, _she enjoys listening to _me _give a lecture. _

After six more minutes of the perhaps most outlandish Q&A session he had ever given, Coric saw the first series of yawns working its way through the assembled youngsters. He shut off the holo under a chorus of protests.

"Forget it guys. Time for bed, ASAP." Under the onslaught of over a dozen pleading eyes and pouting mouths, he relented a little. "I'll tell you more tomorrow."

There were still grumbles, but the children complied and began piling towards the two 'freshers. Coric scooped up Lizby and carried the boy to the 'fresher in the main office, where the size of the appliances made washing more comfortable for the boy. Lizby was the most seriously injured among the children. Playing in a field near his parent's homestead, the boy had stumbled across an unexploded piece of ordnance left over from the fighting. Dangerously volatile, the vibrations in the earth caused by the boy's approach had been enough to set off the detonator. Lizby wouldn't be playing in any more fields for quite some time. Not until the prosthetics to replace both of his legs had arrived, anyway.

Coric had never been that seriously injured in a battle, but he had treated quite a number of troopers who had. The loss of both your legs was a devastating thing whether you were a ten-year old trooper in a man's body, or simply a ten-year old boy. So in the past two days Coric had been paying special attention to Lizby, treating the boy as normally as possible, knowing from experience that the worst thing anyone could do was openly show pity. And Lizby had taken a near instant shine to the medic, constantly asking questions about what he was doing, what this or that gadget did, what Coric would do in the field when a trooper lost a limb. Coric answered him readily and gave the boy access to his various medical guides and field notes. It cut into his time with May, but Coric thought it was well worth it. Lizby would make a good medic someday.

Once everyone was tugged in, Coric and May stood at the entrance of the former reception area, surveying their charges in their various beddings. May turned out the lights and closed the door, then leaned against its jamb. She let out a heartfelt sigh and ran her fingers through her short hair. The action made Coric's fingers twitch.

"Another day done and over," she said, turning her round face towards him with an expression of tired satisfaction. "You certainly put a new spin on the meaning of bedtime story."

Coric shrugged. "Had the lecture all prepared from a previous mission. Never got to give it though. Just seemed a shame to let it go to waste."

She laughed and he smiled, enjoying her appreciation of his dry sense of humor. Then catching him off guard, May leaned forward and pressed a quick, hesitant kiss against his lips. Dumbstruck, Coric found himself unable to respond, merely staring at her like the biggest bantha _di'kut _in the herd.

"You're a wonderful man, Coric," she said, her cheeks a lovely shade of red. "Just thought I'd show my appreciation."

"Yes, ma'am," he answered her, then swallowed and reassembled the scattered bits of his thoughts. He was a medic; he was used to making rapid decisions. "Allow me to show you my appreciation."

And he leaned forward to kiss her dimples, before giving his full attention to her smiling mouth. Yes. This was the duty he preferred, by far.


End file.
